The Last Straw
by WriterKos
Summary: I'd like to introduce you to Dr. James Palmer, M.D. First of the Dr. James Palmer, M.D. series.
1. Today

**_Title: _****_The Last Straw  
>Author: WriterKos<br>Rating: FR15  
>Parings: none<br>Characters: Jimmy Palmer  
>Genres: Vignettes, Character Study, Drama<br>Warnings: none  
>Summary: <em>****_ I'd like to introduce you to Dr. James Palmer, M.D._**

a/n: My beta is taking a break, so I've only spellchecked this story. Any and all mistakes are mine, solely mine. I was checking on ff net and NFA archives and I've noticed that we are sorely missing Jimmy fics. My muse has been quiet for a while but now she is now suddenly singing Arias with Jimmy as the lead Tenor. So bowing to her extreme wisdom, I'm starting a bunch of Jimmy centered stories. There will be a lot of heartache and pain in here, lots of misunderstandings, but don't worry, things will be explained in the end. Well, sort of.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Temperance is simply a disposition of the mind which binds the passion.<em>****_ - _****_Thomas Aquinas_**

**_Chapter one: Tonight_**

He had enough.

Enough of their smirks at his quirks and their haughty eyes upon his every deed.

He had dedicated a good portion of the best years of his life to a bunch of people who looked down on him as if he were only another piece of furniture, lost amidst the autopsy tools and covered with a grab blue scrubs, eternally washing the dead, sewing, weighting their internal organs and cutting their skins and bones.

Yet now he stood there in the middle of autopsy with only his ID and his wallet in his hand. He gently ran his fingers over his ID, remembering all the moments he had spent within these walls during the last few years. There were no others in the building and even if there were, none of them would be visiting autopsy at this time of the night. He studied the empty tables which were silent witnesses of so many mysteries solved between these gray walls and he remembered several talks with Dr. Mallard, when he would ramble about one of his many memories of the past about beautiful dangerous ladies involved in espionage, brave heroes who dared to venture out there, in the brave new world, with the wind blowing at their faces and daring them to do something, anything of value.

People completely different of the old Jimmy Palmer, autopsy gremlin extraordinary.

All those people were living intense lives while he was hiding from the sun like a vampire, braving out in the sunlight only when someone was dead and needed to be transported to the harsh atmosphere of the halogen lights, and where work meant always starting really early and ending very late.

He couldn't go on like that.

He had nothing that could tie him to them anymore.

His tenure as Dr. Mallard's intern was over and he had received no proposal for renewal.

He had graduated – finally, Halleluia! – from Med School, but none was there to cheer with him. The team had been out in a case so they couldn't come and…

His mom was dead. She had died two weeks before he climbed up the podium to receive his diploma and put a Dr. before his name.

She had fought bravely against the cancer which had reduced the vibrant woman from his childhood days to the fragile flower, slowly withering before his very eyes, but she apologized to him for not being there for him in such important moment. He forgave her but he still fervently wished that he had someone waiting for him at the end of the ceremony to celebrate with him.

Dr. James Palmer, M.D.

Sounds good, doesn't it?

So why isn't he happier with it?


	2. Five months earlier

_The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference.  
>The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference.<br>The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference.  
>And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference.<br>- Elie Wiesel_

**_Chapter 2: Five months earlier._**

"What do you mean I'm not covered?" Jimmy Palmer asked the HR assistant sitting before him with a bored face, who raised her eyebrows at him almost up to her hairline for showing his indignation.

The HR assistant huffed and puffed, like an old steam machine releasing steam before starting to climb a very steep hill. She fixed her hazel eyes on him and explained as a teacher would explain a five year old toddler.

"Okay, dear, let me explain this for you. Due to budget cuts the Federal Government decided to cut down some services and also some perks offered to their employees, so one of the first things they've cut off was the medical assistant plan for trainees, interns and other low paying jobs in the federal jungle. It means that each and every medical cost you might incur from this date on" She points to the letter in Jimmy's hand, which was the reason why he had visited the HR in the first place, "you will have to pay from your own pocket. This policy has been put into place in order to avoid massive layoffs, so be grateful because soon they will be cutting down on the plastic cups for coffee and water, office stationary or – heaven forbid – toilet paper. They need to cut down costs so they are hacking off our salaries bonuses and perks instead of lowering the salaries of a bunch of hotshots."

Jimmy stared at her mute, barely processing the bunch of information she had unloaded in his lap in a very short time.

"But… I'm diabetic, I need monthly checkups. My mom is currently under treatment for cancer… I can't afford the meds and the chemo on my own along with my insulin shots, which I need a prescription every week. Gosh, I can barely keep up with the live in nurse she needs to fulfill her basic needs. I need the full coverage."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Palmer. I'm sure you've heard that the Hill is cutting expenses everywhere. We have to consider ourselves lucky they haven't started cutting down positions like they are doing with the US mail service. They are reducing the contingent of people in the streets, reducing the days of collection and delivery of goods in order to save money. Thousands of postal workers have been laid off." The HR assistant tried, really tried, but she couldn't express much pity to his case, as that was the chief complaint she had received for the two weeks from at least dozen employees. All of them were in a daze, expecting her to get a magic trick out of her sleeve and tadah, all their problems were solved.

But that's not how life was going to play out.

The young man stood there frozen, trying to find a solution to his case but he found little sympathy on the HR assistant's face, who was tapping her blue pen on the table eager to go back to the pile of request forms to be reviewed, checked and categorized in alphabetic order hazardously sitting on her desk.

"Anything else, Mr. Palmer?"

"No, not really." Jimmy said in a low voice, feeling his heart squeeze with fear about what that could possibly mean to his future.

He turned around and left the HR area, heading to the elevators which would take him down to the morgue. He entered the car in a daze and leaned against the wall, barely noticing the movement as the floors went by.

Finally the ding announced he was at the basement and he tiredly went to the autopsy, where Agent Gibbs and Dr. Mallard were talking over some papers carefully laid out in front of the old doctor.

Jimmy gulped nervously as he saw the older agent, as up until today he wasn't really comfortable in the presence of the old marine. As expected, Agent Gibbs immediately stood ramrod straight and glared at Jimmy, making him feel like the dog's poop under someone's shoes that they were eager to get rid off by scrapping the shoe sole at the curb.

"Mr. Palmer, good to see you. Please," Dr. Mallard went to another side table, where he took some folders and samples of bacteria culture. "Please take these to Abby. She's waiting for them."

Jimmy glanced nervously at Gibbs before approaching the older doctor. He nervously grabbed the folders and the culture samples and left in a hurry, not really willing to incur on the wrath of the old marine. Once in the corridor, he could still hear Dr. Mallard's cadent voice talking and the soft answer by Agent Gibbs.

"Are you sure, Ducky?"

"Jethro, here is the deal, this marine…"

The doors of the elevators closed, and he could hear no more.


	3. Four months earlier

**_Chapter 3: Four months earlier_**

"Hi Abby, here are the tissue samples Dr. Mallard separated for you."

"Thanks, Jimmy Boy," said Abby, smiling at Jimmy with a bright smile that had to be fake or daily practiced in front of the mirror.

No one can be that happy at that time of the morning. Always cheeky, always happy, Abby was like a butterfly, fluttering in her wings of black lace and fishnet stockings, looking down at the world at the height of her platform boots.

Jimmy smiled faintly at her, but his headache made it more like a grimace instead of a real thing. He had not slept the night before as he now had to cater for his mom's needs too as he had fired the live in nurse the month before and cut down several expenses to make ends meet. He was tired, both physically and emotionally, and it showed on his face.

One of his neighbors had agreed to look after his mom and check her meds during the day, but the nights were cruel as that's when the nausea hit the hardest. So Jimmy was basically working double shifts, one at NCIS and the other bathing, cleaning puke or just consoling his ailing mother.

The saying tightening the belt had acquired a whole new meaning for one Jimmy Palmer.

"You look sick, Jimmy." Abby frowned and stared at the young man, who fidgeted under her stare for a moment, his blue eyes wide open behind his wireframes. "You really should change your diet. I would like to suggest you an egg-lacto-vegetarian one. I'm trying it and I have to say that's great for your skin, eyes, hair."

Jimmy shook his head, staring at one of the several CaffPow cups littering the desk and the garbage can. _Sure, a vegan diet plus countless ounces of caffeine laden drink is going to be great to my diabetic organism_, he thought.

"Thanks for the heads up, Abby," better to head out, before he said something stupid like telling her that he looked sick because he had stayed the whole night up cleaning after his sick mother.

"You're welcome Jimmy. If you ever need any help with these new diets, just ask me. I'm becoming kind of a specialist on them. I've been reading about vegan culture and there are great things to learn with these no-meat eaters."

"Uhm… ahh… I gotta go."

He left as if he had the hounds of hell after him, leaving Abby looking confused at the door.

"Okaaayyy…" she raised the volume of her radio and shook her head with the beat.

Soon the visit of the young autopsy assistant was forgotten, completely erased of her mind, as different nucleotides splashed in a frenetic rhythm on her screen.


	4. Three months earlier

**_Chapter 4: Three months earlier_**

**_Step one you say we need to talk_**  
><strong><em>He walks you say sit down it's just a talk<em>**  
><strong><em>He smiles politely back at you<em>**  
><strong><em>You stare politely right on through<em>**  
><strong><em>Some sort of window to your right<em>**  
><strong><em>As he goes left and you stay right<em>**  
><strong><em>Between the lines of fear and blame<em>**  
><strong><em>And you begin to wonder why you came<em>**

**_How to save a life – The Fray_**

"Ah, Dr. Mallard, may I have a word with you?"

Jimmy dared to voice his question out loud while Dr. Mallard was using a bonecutter to crack the ribs of their most recent visitor to the cold slabs of the autopsy, the sound echoing loudly in the eerie silence of the room, interrupted only here and there by the buzzing of the AC and Dr. Mallard's mutterings as he saw something interesting in the chest of the patient.

"Sure, Mr. Palmer. Now would you please bring me the catheter number two?"

"Ah, sure, doctor."

He rushed and found the requested tool, depositing in the outstretched hand. The doctor immediately started using it, poking here and there, measuring entry points and exit points and draining fluids…

"It's fascinating the path the bullet took in our petty officer's chest. It kicked around like a pinball and ended coming out of his side, not from his back."

"Really?"

Such oddity was worth the look, so for a moment Jimmy leaned over the body and followed Dr. Mallard's explanation on how the high velocity bullet kicked around making a mess of the internal organs of Officer Olsen.

"Really fascinating, isn't it? It reminds me of the time when I …"

"Ah… Dr. Mallard?"

"Listen to this, Mr. Palmer, it's a fascinating story. It started in the Autumn of 1984 when…"

"Dr. Mallard?"

"Stop interrupting me, otherwise I'll forget what I'm saying."

"But…"

"Where was I? Ah, yes, it was the late Autumn of 1984, the leaves had already gained that amazing reddish brown color typical from New England when me and mother…"

Jimmy sighed and felt his shoulders slump down as he started to work on the insides of Petty Officer's Olsen while Dr. Mallard kept talking, completely forgetting that Jimmy had asked to talk to him; Jimmy also didn't have the heart to interrupt him again or to remind him of his request.


	5. Two months earlier

**_Chapter 5: Two months earlier_**

"Hey Palmer, did you get lost again today?"

Tony's teasing tone grated his nerves, which had been stretched thin during the ride as they drove around aimlessly as Dr. Mallard misread the directions in the map to the crime scene.

Again.

Jimmy clenched his teeth together and didn't answer, this time going straight to the body and starting to unpack the tools for Dr. Mallard who reached the body a few seconds after him. He immediately handed the liver thermometer for the older man, who plucked it in the body as one who pokes a turkey for Thanksgiving dinner.

He had lost weight, as the quality and quantity of his meals had decreased exponentially to the increase of his expenses with his mom's medicines and his own insulin shots. His nerves were rubbed raw, his temper was peeking here and there and Tony's usual brand of humor was just the last thing that he had to deal in a day which was promising to go from bad to worst.

"What's wrong with you, Palmer? Did a cat eat your tongue?" Ziva asked, with a hint of concern on her voice, but her question was answered with only with a shrug. Jimmy kept his head low and his eyes in the tools before him, not really willing to expose his inner turmoil to his coworkers.

"Trust Ziva to get that idiom right," mocked Tony, just to receive a headslap from Gibbs who was right behind him. "Thanks, Boss. I needed that."

"DiNozzo, photos. McGee, bag and tag. Ziva, witness statements."

Each team member rushed to obey, leaving Dr. Mallard and Jimmy blessedly alone with the senior agent to study the body.

Gibbs knelt beside Ducky beside the body and both started their usual dialogue when facing the demise of one of Gibbs' precious marines.

"Time of death, Ducky?"

"I've just started with the body, Jethro. But I'd say by the rigor mortis between ten to twelve hours."

Jimmy silently gathered soil samples and collected samples from underneath the fingertips, isolating the hands in plastic bags to ensure the preservation of the evidence. He started to get uncomfortable when he felt Gibbs' stare burning at him for a moment, studying him as if he were a bug under a microscope.

"Something bothering you, Palmer?"

Jimmy looked up at the older agent, surprised for being the receiving end of a question from Gibbs.

"Ah… ohh… no. I'm fine. Just haven't been sleeping well."

"Ah, Mr. Palmer. You should sleep at least eight hours. You young men believe that you can go on with less, pushing the limits of your body and end up falling sick." Dr. Mallard waved his hands at him, his gestures trying to impress the importance of a good night of sleep, before turning his attention to the liver thermometer.

He still felt here and there Gibbs' stares on him, but he shrugged it off as just his usual irritation with his manners and improper comments.

After saying something improper about the victim, Jimmy was on the receiving end of a heated glare from Gibbs and a verbal reprimand from Dr. Mallard. He gulped, packed away his tools and with a murmured, "I'm getting the gurney," he left in hurried steps without raising his eyes from the floor.

Tony shook his head, a frown in his face, "What the hell is wrong with him?"

McGee stared at Jimmy's back, also a look of concern on his face, "I have no idea."

Gibbs's growling bark at them to see some piece of evidence took their minds away from the puzzle of the young Palmer's behavior, and their attention was soon again focused in the amazing worlds of clues and puzzles that had led to the murder of the marine.


	6. One month earlier

**_Chapter 6: One month earlier_**

**_When I wanted to tell you_**  
><strong><em>I made a mistake<em>**  
><strong><em>I walked away<em>**

**_Gomenasai, for everything_**  
><strong><em>Gomenasai, Gomenasai, Gomenasai<em>**  
><strong><em>I never needed a friend,<em>**  
><strong><em>Like I do now<em>**

**_Gomenasai, Tatu_**

"Jimmy, dear, come here."

He lifted his eyes from his thesis work and looked to the fragile figure in the bed. Her smile was frail just like the rest of her; her hair had been gone for a long time but he still helped her tie bright colored scarves over her bald head, a last show of vanity of his once beautiful and happy mother.

He put aside his books and his notes and brought his chair closer to her bedside, studied her blue eyes, so similar to his own, looking at him with the same bright intelligence he had always admired in his mom. She offered her hands to him so he gently took them in his, being careful of not disturbing the IV line which was connected to her vein.

"Promise me, Jimmy, that you will take care of yourself and that you will do your utmost to be happy."

Jimmy felt the dry skin of his mother's hands in his, distractedly measuring the beatings of her heart with his fingers which were delicately resting on her pulse.

"I promise, mom. Someway, somehow, I'll be happy someday."

"Good boy." She smiled brightly, just like she used to when she was healthy and there was a future for both of them, when her body hadn't been ripped apart by a malign cancer and by the terrible chemo, radio and all the other therapies designed to kill the cancer but that, sometimes, ended up killing the patient.

She opened her arms and he, like an obedient son, leaned forward and rested his face against her chest, feeling her small breasts under his cheek, her hands connected to the IVs gently running through his unruly curly hair as he listened to the constant beating of her struggling heart against his ear.

He closed his eyes and slowly left the despair flow out of his chest in the form of tears, which soon became sobs, which soon became wailing. Through it all, his mother calmly hugged him to her chest, grounding him and giving him the strength that he had somehow lost during the last weeks of struggling against unbeatable odds, against a disease that was slowly killing his mom and nothing he had learnt in so many years at Med school was enough to save her.

She passed away silently in the next morning in her sleep. There was no pain or suffering lines on her face, just a placid smile of one person who might not lived much, but had lived enough for a lifetime.

No one from NCIS came to her funeral. He told no one of her passing.


	7. Two weeks earlier

**_a/n: In my little universe, there's no Bree._**

**_Chapter 7: Two weeks earlier._**

"I'd like to introduce you to the recent Graduates of the Class of 2011!"

With these words and with a loud round of applause, the whole group of Graduates stood up and flipped their graduation hats up, indicating the end of the ceremony.

Dr. James Palmer closed his eyes and felt the rumbling of his colleagues around himself, each high fiving each other and hugging, glad that this hellish period at Grad School was over.

However Dr. Palmer felt empty inside. He had finished Medical school, after much pain and sacrifice, but his mom was dead, his job was currently on the line as his last visit to the HR had resulted in no positive news and he was at crossroads in his life.

What should he do now?

He was a Medical Doctor now. He could practice. He could put good use to all that amazing education and try working on living people instead of dead ones.

But he would have to step away from NCIS, his friends and the comfortable environment he had created for himself in there in order to do that.

Would he be able to brave enough to leave everything behind and try something new? Step away and stop being just the autopsy gremlin?

Would he dare?

Worst yet, would they even care and notice if he did that?

He smiled lightly to one of his colleagues who ran to him and hugged him; he hugged her back distractedly. He let go and then started walking out of the middle of the crushing bodies, stepping around tightly knit bunches of graduates being hugged by their family members here and there.

He took one of the hats from the floor and gently touched the brim of it, feeling the texture under his fingertips. He decided to take it with him as memento of that moment of his life, when he closed a chapter of his life for good.

He looked up and searched the crowd but his head knew what his heart still tried to refuse to acknowledge.

No one had come.

He hadn't seen a single person from NCIS in the crowd. The team had been working nonstop for two days trying to find a child killer. They were looking ragged around the edges when he saw them before leaving the office that evening for the Graduation ceremony.

They all wished him a great time and congratulated him for finally ending Med school.

He slowly walked out of the big ceremonial hall his university had for such ceremonies, smiling here and there for his colleagues who were with their friends and family. He reached the doors and pushed them open, walking out alone to the warm night air and to his brand new life.


	8. This morning

**_Chapter 8: This morning_**

"Mr. Palmer, do you have any questions?"

Jimmy gulped, feeling for the first time in the whole week numb.

He stared down at the same HR assistant that had announced that his medical insurance had been cut a couple of months before and who had, again, robbed him of the very air he breathed, and only felt numbness on his brain, his body, his soul.

There were no more tears to be shed as he had cried everything he had left in him three days ago when he had found a bunch of letters his mother had written during her bedridden days. One letter for each day.

Each telling stories of how she had dreamed of him being a doctor, working in a big hospital, healing people.

_Haha. Big deal._

"So…" Jimmy cleared his throat, feeling it clench but still refusing to cry in front of that woman, "You're saying that my internship contract hasn't been renewed. And it has no prospect of being renewed soon."

"I'm sorry Mr. Palmer. As I've told you before, the Federal Government is making cuts everywhere they can. I don't know if it would make you feel better, but you're not the only one whose contract hasn't been renewed."

She leaned forward, her blouse almost bursting with her ample bosom tightly squeezed in linen, the buttons barely holding the two sides together. Her hazel eyes twinkled with an obscure pleasure as she pointed with her eyebrows to a cubicle to the left.

"Ms. Andrews also hasn't received a renewal." She said in a conspiratorial tone.

Jimmy gulped and looked to the direction she had pointed and he found a young woman in her mid twenties, probably from the secretarial pool, crying in front of another HR assistant, who in the same calm tone explained how cruel reality was.

"You're not alone in you woes, Mr. Palmer," said his own angel from hell, with a calm tone specifically designed to calm down wild beasts or, in this case, people who had just being laid off.

"I'm sure you will find another other position soon."

The ball of boiling lead in his chest finally dropped to the floor, slowly burning a hole in the ground as it corroded the area where he was standing, dragging him down with it as it went to the lower floor to corrode the next lower floor, and the next, and the next...

Mrs. HR smiled politely and organized her pencils, carefully sharpened, according to their sizes, going from the smallest to the biggest.

"Any questions, Mr. Palmer?"

"Yes, when do I have to leave?"

"Well, we expect your ID card on my desk by Monday morning, along with a printed list of all your computer passwords and access codes so the guys in the IT may do what they have to do with it."

Jimmy thought about it, it was Friday afternoon. The team wasn't on duty this weekend so he could…

"If I choose to leave the ID tonight, would there be someone here to receive it?"

The HR assistant bit her lower lip, considering the question, "Ah, our department closes up shop at five thirty, six pm tops. If you drop by after that, please leave everything in an envelope in my inbox and I'll process it all on Monday."

_You're kidding right? You can finish a chapter of your life so easily like that? Just put everything of value in an envelope and leave it on the inbox?_

He, of course, didn't say that out loud, "Really?"

"Yes."

"Thanks then, Mrs…" It was only then that he realized that he had never asked her name.

She smiled when she realized his confusion and his silent question. She offered her hand to be shaken as if they were meeting for the first time, "Krauss, Mrs. Janine Krauss."

They shook hands, "Thanks, Mrs. Krauss."

"You're welcome, Mr. Palmer. May you have a nice life out there." She pointed to the window, alluding to the world out there, somewhere beyond the orange walls and the recycled air of ACs.

He smiled at her, the first sincere smile to grace his face for a while.

"I will."


	9. Tonight

_ **Chapter 9: Tonight**_

**_Autopsy, 10: 50 pm._**

**_Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend_**  
><strong><em>Somewhere along in the bitterness<em>**  
><strong><em>I would have stayed up with you all night<em>**  
><strong><em>Had I known how to save a life<em>**

**_How to save a life – The Fray_**

He silently slid the ID in the white envelope, where the printout of his passwords already was. He carefully labeled the envelope to Mrs. Janine Krauss in HR and closed it with tape, sliding his big thumb over it to make sure that it was firmly closed. He stood up from the chair by the computer and looked around the room that he had gathered so many memories.

He remembered Tony's jokes, McGee's computer talk, Abby's fantastic boots and her loud music, Ziva's deadly paperclips and Dr. Mallard's amazing stories.

He closed his eyes when he remembered… _her._Michelle and her leopard print underwear. On the autopsy table. Under it. In the paint closet. He gulped and shoved the memory down, dragging it down a corridor of his mind and opening a door behind which he usually stuffed all the junk and things he had no wish to remember and pushed Michelle's memory inside.

For a moment he could still see her doe like brown eyes staring at him, her red glossy lips forming his name…

He shook his head and shut the door firmly on it, on her, never to be remembered again. It hurt too much.

At last, but not the least, the amazing figure of Agent Gibbs, who lead that mixed bunch of people in a tightly pack of crime sniffing bloodhounds. Any wrong deed could be found by them, no crime was left uncovered.

Yet he had never really become one of them. He had always stood outside looking in the tight relationships forged by the thick of the battle, the gunshots and the tension that crushed them together and formed one single uniform mass which was the NCIS family.

A family that he had never really become a member.

He sighed and turned off the lamp, inundating the autopsy in darkness. He silently went to the doors using his memory rather than his sight to reach the corridor. Smiling as the doors swished open, he left the room where he had spent so many hours and days leaning over open chest cavities, learning about this and that with Dr. Mallard. He climbed the elevator and watched the numbers slowly change in the display, reaching the floor of the HR office.

He walked through the darkened floor in silence, hearing in the distance the noise of the night duty cleaning crew working, using a hover on the carpet somewhere to his right.

He dropped the envelope with his ID in the inbox tray of Mrs. Krauss and turned around, leaving the room, soon leaving the building and finally leaving the old Jimmy Palmer behind.

Dr. James Palmer, M.D was about to come out and play.

= THE END =


End file.
